Requiem for the Living
by D4ndelion
Summary: It's post-war.  The world is trying to recover and everyone seems to be doing okay except Draco and Harry. They find similar coping techniques and realize maybe they aren't alone. Warnings: Suicidal thoughts, self-harm, depression, sexual interactions.
1. Chapter 1

**Warning: Depression, suicidal thoughts, self-harm of different varieties, sexual interactions, yaoi.**

**Disclaimer: I do not own any of the characters in this story.**

Requiem for the Living

Chapter One

Screams and silence. That was all he could hear. It was all he could handle. It was all he could remember. Harry Potter lay face up in his four-poster bed. The velvet red sheets seemed too hot under his already burning skin. The sounds of snoring coming from the other side of the room seemed too distant to be reality. The red color of the curtains seemed to only remind him of the one thing he did have in common with the rest of his kind. It was rushing in his skin. He closed his eyes. He could almost feel it in his veins. Life.

His eyes were dry and his muscles were exhausted. His lids seemed heavy and Harry Potter hadn't slept in three weeks. Every time he tried he woke up to Ron's terrified face and his own body covered in sweat and his ever-so-familiar scar burning and burning.

Flashes and green light and friendly faces falling to the ground, lifeless. The familiar laughter of insanity and those eyes. Those red eyes, always burned into his retinas. These were the things he saw in his sleep. So three weeks ago, he chose not to see them anymore.

7 am. Early enough to get up. Harry Potter brushed his teeth and washed his face and combed his hair, not that it did much good, and got dressed and did what usual people do in the morning. He grabbed the shaving razor and ran his hand over the slight stubble on his face. He brought it to his arm and dug into his skin, leaving a riveting trail of life. Oh wait… That's not normal. I guess Harry Potter wasn't so usual after all… He looked down at the red line on his arm. No look crossed his face. No smile, no grimace, nothing. He didn't think he could smile anymore. However, his eyes did lighten and there was a spark of the vibrant green that used to be. Almost unnoticeable to anyone except to someone who would understand. And no one understood Harry Potter. He was…

Alone.

Harry walked into the great hall. The usual chatter turned into a hushed silence and he could feel many eyes on him. Searching, probing, questioning, worrying, whatever. It didn't matter. It was always the same. Ever since the end of the war, everyone left him alone. They were scared he might just lose it at any second and become the next dark lord or whatever. Not that that thought didn't slightly amuse Harry.

This morning however he could feel a pair of eyes drilling into the back of his head. A pair that wasn't usually on him. He casually glanced over his shoulder to find a pair of smoldering silver eyes on his. They kept staring at each other, maybe like a contest? Harry wasn't sure. But usually everything was a contest between them. A rivalry. Always trying to dominate the other. Malfoy's eyes turned dark and they darting down to Harry's arm. Harry blinked and Malfoy was eating, yes focused on his plate.

Did he just imagine that? Confused, he turned back around to his plate. A spot of red caught his eyes and they widened.

_Shit…_

He was so weak from lack of sleep and food that his glamour was fading and blood from earlier was soaked on his sleeve. Had Malfoy seen it? Or was he just crazy?

Ron and Hermione came and sat next to him.

"Harry, you must at this morning… Please."

He shook his head.

"Mate, common. Even if your not hungry try to eat a piece of toast."

He sighed and picked up a piece taking a small bite of the corner. He looked at Ron and Hermione and nodded, picked up his books and left to go to class. Potions might be enjoyable now that Snape was gone.

Draco Malfoy was not one to care about anyone. Malfoys looked after themselves and that was pretty much it. He only cared about two things in this world. Himself, and his beautiful rare solid black eagle owl. He was also not one to be interested in other people unless it served him however, Potter was looking like death. And Malfoy knew what death looked like. Not that he was worried or anything, just curious.

Everyone had gone through the war and suffered because of it. Most had found a happy ending. A few witnessed horrors beyond imagination and were never to be happy because of it. Malfoy and Potter were two of those people. I mean, he did expect Potter to be able to cope somehow, with all his fans and being the boy who saved the world, the hero, being in the paper. He half expected him to marry that Weasley girl and have kids and a hut somewhere and maybe be able to at least forget what happened. He didn't expect Potter to walk into the great hall looking like he did.

He walked slowly, almost drudgingly, hair was as unruly as ever and hadn't been cut in a while. Hung around the base of his neck like a mop of something most ragged and untamed. His clothes were either far too large or he was just getting too skinny. His skin was pale to the point of sickly and his eyes. His eyes struck Draco to the core. They were deep and empty and almost a rusty dark green. It was if someone had taken his eyes out and just left gaping eye sockets. It almost was haunting.

Harry turned around and looked right at Draco. He thought to turn away, but he was a Malfoy and Malfoy's don't look away. He had nothing to be ashamed of.

Fuck Potter.

It wasn't his fault for looking so damned tortured. Gryffindors should be braver then that and suck it the fuck up. His eyes caught something red. He glanced down at Potter's arm and his throat closed up. He cleared his throat and looked back down to his plate. Suddenly he was very hungry. He needed to get to potions class.

He finished his food, all the while itching his wrist.

**Chapter one is done. I hope you enjoyed it. I welcome reviews and advice. I have a pretty good idea where I would like this story to go, but I always welcome new ideas if you have any. Flames are for immature people, so common, be an adult. I should have the next chapter in a day or two.**


	2. Chapter 2

**Warning: Depression, suicidal thoughts, self-harm of different varieties, sexual interactions, yaoi.**

**Disclaimer: I do not own any of the characters in this story.**

Requiem for the Living

Chapter Two

Round and round and a pinch of Bison horn. Potions was always the same and always just as boring. Harry didn't even try anymore. So what if he failed? It wasn't like he had any long-term goals in mind. He expected he'd just be miserable until someone killed him or he killed himself. What was the point of doing anything? He should just lock himself up in his room and lay there until he died. Ron and Hermione kept trying to make him feel better and he appreciated them. But they just didn't understand… Couldn't understand. Having constant memories of death and destruction and torture and rape and pointless killing. It was enough to make anyone want to give up.

He lazily stirred his potion, looking around the class for some sort of entertainment. His eyes fell on Malfoy. He was hunched over in his seat, thin blonde eyebrows furrowed, hair falling in his eyes. He was concentrating so hard a bead of sweat ran its way from his forehead to his chin and dropped beneath his crisp white shirt collar. Why was he focusing so hard on a stupid potions assignment? And why the fuck was green fumes coming from his cauldron which was supposed to have a clear potion in it?

Harry was now very curious and wanted to know exactly what Malfoy was brewing. It must have been something complex because Malfoy was usually very good in potions, and he seemed to be struggling with this one. Harry leaned forward in his chair and tried to inconspicuously glance in his cauldron. He tipped a little more. If only he could see what was in that bloody cauldron. Just a little more and he would know. Someone cleared their throat and Harry looked up to see Malfoy staring at him.

"What the fuck do you think you're doing Potter?"

He didn't know what to say so he shrugged and leaned back into his chair and stared at his own cauldron.

When was that bloody bell going to ring. His arm ached from not enough attention and this class was so boring.

_3…2…1_

Harry got his bag and headed towards the prefects bathroom. His glasses were all smudged from that stupid potion. He removed them to wipe them off and toppled into someone.

"Sorry…"

He mumbled, putting his glasses back on.

"Malfoy."

There stood the ice prince himself, clothes disheveled and books on the floor.

"Watch where you're going Potter."

Harry glared at him and pushed past him, slamming into his shoulder on purpose. He was suddenly grabbed by the arm and swung around, facing a fuming Malfoy.

"Goddamn it Potter I said watch-"

Was that it? That wasn't a complete sentence. Malfoy was ether very daft or he was staring at Harry's sleeve covered arm.

_Shit_

He suddenly felt Malfoy's thin fingers rubbing up and down through the fabric of his shirt.

_He can feel them… He can feel the scabs._

Harry's eyes widened and he tried to yank his arm away. Malfoy looked him dead in the eye and yanked his sleeve up. There they were. On show for Malfoy, cuts littering his arm, some bleeding, some scabbed, and lots of scars. He just knew Malfoy would tell the whole world. Here comes the side show attraction…

"_Harry Potter freak show! 3 galleons to see the freak that cuts himself!"_

Malfoy was looking down at Harry's arm. He casually ran his fingers up one of the cuts, almost… Tenderly? Harry wasn't sure if he was hallucinating or not. Maybe he should eat something… He looked up into Malfoy's eyes. They were softer. Then a wide grin set in on his face. Harry yelped as claws scraped their way down his tender arm. He felt previously scabbed cuts open and blood was riveting down his arm. His eyes closed and his mind went white as pleasure soured through his body. He felt something soft and wet sliding up his arm and he looked down to find Malfoy running his tongue up his arm.

_What. The. Fuck?_

He raised his head up and licked his lips which were stained with Harry's blood. Harry had never seen anything creepier and hotter in his entire life. Which was odd because this is Malfoy. Draco Malfoy. Sworn enemy and bastard Mr. Draco Malfoy. And he looked hot with his hair draped into his eyes and his shirt wrinkled and askew and Harry's blood on his lips. He looked… Crazy and so hot and Harry was one sick fuck.

Draco glanced down to Harry's pants, which had become far too tight, grinned and left.

Like previously mentioned…

What the fuck…


	3. Chapter 3

**Warning: Depression, suicidal thoughts, self-harm of different varieties, sexual interactions, yaoi.**

**Disclaimer: I do not own any of the characters in this story.**

Requiem for the Living

Chapter Three

Draco lay on his four-poster bed and stared at the tiny crack running across the ceiling. Harry cut himself… Harry fucking Saint Potter took a blade and dragged it across his skin. The idea almost seemed too absurd. But then Draco could still taste the boy's blood on his lips. He absentmindedly rubbed up and down his arm. Draco had some self-destructing tendencies too, but this was saint potter… Why would the great Harry Potter resort to such a thing?

Draco rolled over onto his side.

Not that he cared at all. Still…

He rolled onto his back and tucked his arm behind his head.

It was amusing to see him squirm under his gaze. Draco had a fetish for power. And he held so much power over the other boy right now. He could make him do anything he wanted. After all, he had so much fun tearing open those cuts on Potter's arm. And it seemed harry was a bit of a masochist, because he could see the lust lay over Potter's face like a blanket. He could have the saint of the wizarding world follow him around like a little house elf. The idea of corrupting the light's precious golden boy was almost too much for Draco and he had to adjust his pants.

Oh yes… This was SO going to happen. Because after all, Draco was a Malfoy, and Malfoys always get what they want…

Draco made his way to the Great Hall for dinner. He sat down and his seat waited. Soon enough, a black-haired hero came trudging through the hall and over to the Gryffindor table. Even with the untamed hair and the skeletal appearance of Potter's frame, and the dead green eyes, Draco could still acknowledge that Potter was attractive. His dead demeanor almost added to his appeal. A poor hero who lost everything and was now bordering on self-destrucion. Draco couldn't deny that he had been insanely turned on earlier when he saw the hero's arm littered with self-inflicted cuts. Draco wanted to push Harry farther and farther until he was just as fucked up as Draco was. Turn him dark, make him beg for you to tear him apart. After all, Potter was always very attractive, but always so damn good. But Potter was going bad now. Draco was always strangely attracted to the dark, and Potter was turning darker and darker everyday. He just needed a little push and he wouldn't be able to ever return to the light. And Draco didn't mind being the one to give him that push. Well… Maybe like a shove.

Potter turned and looked at him. Their eyes locked. The green eyes looked a little nervous and he seemed to be squirming in his seat. Draco smirked and picked up his steak-knife. Potter's eyes were on him like a magnet. Draco twirled it on his finger, and pressed hard enough to make a tiny cut on his thumb. Potter's eyes turned flame green and his nostrel's flared. Never breaking contact with Potter's eyes, Draco lifted the injured digit and pressed the tip to his tongue. He rolled it around the finger, making sure to catch every last bit of blood.

Potter was drooling.

Draco looked Potter up and down, winked, and turned to talk to Blaise as if nothing had happened. He could feel Potter's eyes still boring into him.

Oh this was going to be fun…

_Sorry for not posting this chapter sooner. I just bought a house and now have a 1200$ mortgage every month. Which is insane for a 23 year old. Which means work work work. Lol… Anyways, I do apologize for the time in between and I hope you enjoyed chapter three._


	4. Chapter 4

**Warning: Depression, suicidal thoughts, self-harm of different varieties, sexual interactions, yaoi.**

**Disclaimer: I do not own any of the characters in this story.**

Requiem for the Living

Chapter Four

Harry Potter was a mass of confusion. He was covered in sweat as he raced from the Great Hall. Who did Malfoy thing he was and what the fuck was he doing? The previous incident in the halls was bad enough. Harry slid down against a random stone wall and sighed, running his fingers through his hair.

First of all, Harry Potter and Draco Malfoy always hated each other. Any kind of feelings between them was always hate and rivalry. Harry could acknowledge that Malfoy was always attractive. In a stuck-up, prick kind of way. But his was Malfoy. He hated Malfoy. Then why did Malfoy looks so fucking hot earlier licking his bleeding wound?

Maybe because his eyes were wild fire and ice at the same time?

Maybe because his hair was so perfect every strand was in place, but their place seemed to be hastily falling into his eyes?

Maybe because Harry's blood was staining his opposing pale pink lips?

Maybe because Harry Potter had finally lost his marbles?

Harry looked down at his arm. He wondered if his skin tasted like Malfoy's lips… Then he wondered why the fuck he was thinking about that. Still…

He looked around.

No one was looking… Why not satisfy his curiosity?

He pulled up his sleeve and ran his tongue across the cuts Malfoy had licked. It tasted of copper and mint and freshly fallen snow and something pungent… Maybe Vodka? Harry raised his eyebrows. What a weird thing to taste. It was almost nauseating, but in an addictive kind of way. But that's what Malfoy always was wasn't he? Obnoxious and cruel and sarcastic and taunting and always infuriating Harry until he had to say something back. Had to get closer to him. Had to look him dead in the eyes. Had to punch him in that perfect sneering face.

"Tastes like Malfoy."

Now that Harry though about it, Malfoy's and Harry's relationship was probably the most passionate one he had ever experienced. It was sick and twisted, but always got a rise out of him. Always made his face flush. And for some unknown reason, Harry was always hard after they fought. Hid pants were becoming tight right now. He wanted to taste more.

And with that thought, he slashed his fingernails across his marred arm and bent down to take another curious and maybe crazy lick.

Wait… Didn't curiosity kill the cat?

"Potter."

Draco Malfoy was one smug bastard. He watched Potter race out of the hall face flushed with an obvious erection. He calmly put down his napkin and rose to leave. Goyle asked him where he was going. He didn't give him a response or even turn to look at him. Why should he? He calmly followed Potter, slightly curious as to where he was going. He followed until he saw him drop against a wall and run a hand through his hair.

God that hair was messy. It was wild and unkempt and jet black. Hair that begged to tangle your hand up. Like some kind of midnight kudzu.

Potter had a strange look on his face, as if he was contemplating a decision. Malfoy quirked his eyebrow and let out some sort of sick chuckle as he watched Potter bring his cut up arm to his mouth and lick at one of his wounds

God this was hot.

Curious… The same wound that Draco himself had licked previously.

"Tastes like Malfoy."

Draco let out a savage snarl as he saw Potter's eyes darken with lust and his cheeks flush . Draco bit his lip as Harry savagely slashed his arm open with his fingernails, eyes crazy and so green and hair seemingly waving around him as if there was an invisible wind. He looked crazy and like a dark creature was buried within his skin and dear god, he was going back for seconds. Draco thinks' its time to step out of the shadows and take what he wants.

"Potter."

His eyes dart up in fear and embarrassment, the animal retreating back into it's cage.

"I see we are enjoying ourselves are we?"

His eyes show panic and lust and fear and something savage and primal and it is glorious.

"Why don't we explore and conquer those marred up arms a little more Gryffindor?"

Potter doesn't seem to know what to do or say. Fight or flight? He chooses flight and scurries away like a scared little mouse. Malfoy's patronis was a panther. So bring on the game of cat and mouse. Cause by the end of this Potter was surely going to get eaten.


	5. Chapter 5

**Warning: Depression, suicidal thoughts, self-harm of different varieties, sexual interactions, yaoi.**

**Disclaimer: I do not own any of the characters in this story.**

Requiem for the Living

Chapter Five

Potter was shaking. He felt somewhere in-between throwing up and jumping off the astronomy tower. He was beyond confused. Beyond scared. Beyond mortified. Beyond showing his face to Malfoy ever again. What the fuck was he thinking, doing something like that in public? And why the fuck was Malfoy even there?

He sighed and smacked his head against his bedpost.

Merlin… Malfoy had heard him say his name. He had seen him—He didn't even what to think about it anymore. He was supposed to meet Hermione for a late study session, but fuck that. All he wanted was to go to sleep. Even if he did have nightmares, it was better than having to run that embarrassing moment over and over in his head like a bad movie. I mean, what the fuck was wrong with him; thinking that Malfoy was all of a sudden hot? Thinking that he wanted Malfoy to do every dirty thing he could imagine to him, and possibly things he couldn't imagine.

Harry shook his head. This was ridiculous, it was embarrassing, and it was overall downright insane. And he wasn't going to think about it anymore. He chugged the last bottle of dreamless sleep, and closed his eyes. His last two thoughts before drifting off were _'fuck Malfoy' and 'yes please'._

Harry awoke to birds chirping and the sun filtering through his stained glass window making small rainbows on the old oak bedroom floor and to massive headache.

_Fuck these birds and this stupid sun and all these mother fucking rainbows._

The drawback of dreamless sleep was waking up the next morning and feeling like you drank and entire barrel of fire whiskey. He went through his daily morning routine; brushing his teeth, washing his face, taking the razorblade out of his shaving case. He brought the blade to his arm and was about to make the first cut, until he saw a blonde-haired, silver-eyed someone flash in his mind.

"Goddamn it!"

The blonde ruined everything. He couldn't even do this without thinking of that stupid slytherin git. He threw down the razor, grabbed his bag and stormed down to breakfast.

_Goddamn ferret…_

Harry Potter sat slumping over his steaming bowl of oatmeal. He could feel a pair of eyes on him and he didn't even need to turn around to know whose they were. His friends were looking at him with concern.

"Harry what's wrong? Why are you staring at your oatmeal and not eating it?"

He just blushed and slumped even further. His friends must have thought this was very odd behavior and were about to say something until the bell rung signaling time for classes to start. Relieved with not having to deal with their question he grabbed his bag and straight out sprinted for the door. He was running so fast that he slipped and toppled into one of the trophy cabinets in the hall. He looked up stunned, rubbing his now very sore head. His heart stopped. There in front of him was Cedric's plaque. And Sirius' and his father's. An overwhelming wave of depression ran through his veins like venom. He scratched at his arms hoping to let some of that nasty venom out. It wasn't working. His heart was in a frantic state. He ran straight for the boy's lavatory.

Draco Malfoy saw one Harry Potter run out of the great hall. He always had to leave every room so dramatically. His evil sick twisted black heart relished in knowing what kind of dramatic effect he had on the other boy. Draco had a feel that if he were to follow Saint Potter he would find the savior in another relishing position. And Draco wanted to be there for that. Without a word he got up and strutted out of the great hall. He saw Potter turn down the left corridor and into the prefect's bathroom. Tut tut Potter, always breaking rules.

He snuck in the bathroom and saw Potter in the far corner of the bathroom, grabbing his thick hair and yanking on the ends. He was pacing back and forth whispering to himself like a madman. He finally stopped his obnoxious ranting and punched the farthest mirror from the door. It shattered around him, pieces flying into the sink and on the floor. Potter eyed the sink suspiciously. He reached down then shook his head and turned away and started pacing again, boots crunching on broken glass. He repeated his mundane behavior 2 more times before letting out a primal yell and roughly grabbed a glass shard.

Ah yes. Draco's pants already started tightening, knowing what was about to come.

Potter shoved his robes up his arm and made a small cut near his elbow. He hissed and shook his head. He made a much deeper cut near his wrist. His eyes rolled back into his head as it fell backwards. He made an even deeper cut and let out a wanton moan.

Draco's hand and mysteriously found its way to the front of his pants. Mischievous little thing. He watched fascinated at watching the blade dig deeper and deeper into Potter's supple yielding flesh. He watched erotically and hard and touching himself as crimson blood riveted down Potter's arms, running over the many many scars decorated across it. He prayed a sinful prayer that he would shortly get to taste Potter's sweet blood hit his tongue and make him drunk on lust like copper wine. Potter let out another wanton primal sex sound and Draco just refused to take it anymore. He cleared his throat and stepped out of the shadows. Potter turned around drunk in his blood and lust in his groin and fear in his eyes. Oh yes. Oh hell yes. Draco was going to have Potter. He was going to take him in and suffocate him in his own madness. He was going to inject venom into his veins, swallow him whole, digest him, and spit him back out as something most twisted. Toying with your food, fucking it, and sucking it dry.

He was going after Harry Potter like a black widow to a moth.

After all…

Malfoy was a wicked one,

And what a wicked web in his head he has spun.

So Harry Potter, you might want to run…

Cause something wicked this way comes.


	6. Chapter 6

**Warning: Depression, suicidal thoughts, self-harm of different varieties, sexual interactions, yaoi.**

**Disclaimer: I do not own any of the characters in this story.**

Requiem For A Living

Chapter Six

Drunk. That was what Harry Potter was. Drunk on blood and adrenaline and fear and lust. But even through his drunken state he knew he was fucked. Fucked beyond all comprehension. Fucked in his head; fucked in his skin; and fucked because Draco Malfoy had just emerged from an unseen shadow, stalking him like a lion. And boy did Harry feel like a piece of meat. The carnivore before him could smell his bleeding wounds and licked its chops. It could feel Harry's fear radiating off him and its eyes were ablaze with carnage. It could see Harry's lust as it looked him up and down, almost drooling with intent. Intent of, Harry was sure, eating him alive. Tearing the already bleeding flesh off his body and devouring him. The beast's eyes betrayed carnage so sick, so twisted, so fucking evil…

And Harry and never been more turned on in his entire life. Fuck this was hot. The look alone in Draco's eyes was enough to make Harry cum.

He watched, eyes lidded, breath shallow from blood loss as Malfoy circled him.

"Just look at you Potter."

Oh… Draco surely was.

"Such a mess."

That was an understatement.

Then Malfoy leaned up against the stone wall, eyes taunting and as silver as the moon.

"Continue Potter."

Harry was confused.

"I…. What?"

Malfoy nodded down to Harry's hand where he held the glass shard.

"I said continue. No need to stop because I'm here."

Harry certainly wasn't going do it in front of anyone, let alone Malfoy.

"I don't think… I don't know what you're trying to pull here Malfoy, but get the hell out. This is none of your business."

Draco just smirked.

"I want to watch you."

Harry was flabbergasted.

"You want to watch me?"

Draco sauntered over to him and leaned in to whisper in his ear.

"Yes Potter. I want you to take that glass and dig it into your skin while I watch. Then I want you to look at me as your licking your blood off your arm. Then I will taste your blood on your own lips. Then I will leave."

Oh my. Oh dear. Oh shit fuck. Harry didn't think he could get any harder. Malfoy wanted him to cut himself while he watched. And he wanted to watch. And Harry wanted him to watch.

Draco leaned back against the stone wall, arms crossed, waiting.

Harry's hand was shaking. He slowly brought it to his arm and let the glass slice its way through his skin. He heard a sharp inhale and glanced up at Malfoy. His eyes were on fire, nostrils flared, lips parted. He looked so goddamn hot.

"Again Potter. Harder. Deeper."

What was he talking about again? Oh ya… cutting.

Harry suddenly became filled with a hunger for power. The power to make Draco want him. He could feel it oozing from his skin. He let out a moan and viciously began slashing his arms over and over, eyes never leaving Malfoy's. Every cut he made, Malfoy's eyes darkened and his pupil's enlarged until they were almost black. The intensity of lust in the room was so thick you could cut it with a knife. Harry could feel his blood making a pool on the floor, spreading under his boots and in the cracks of the stone.

Malfoy suddenly reached over and grabbed his hand, stopping his mania. He reached for the glass shard and rolled up his own shirt sleeve. Eyes never leaving Harry's he made a clean neat slash across his wrist. Draco moaned in pain and pleasure. Harry's eyes rolled back into his head. This was too much. He felt like me might explode and never return to reality. Draco held his bleeding wrist up to Harry's mouth and without even a thought Harry's tongue darted out to taste Malfoy's blood. It tasted clean and pure and royal and snide had a twang that almost bit your tongue. It tasted like everything Malfoy was and Harry had never tasted anything better. Malfoy's eyes were wildfire as he watched Harry lick his blood. Harry realized that he liked… No… LOVED those eyes on him and he thought he might just do anything to keep them that way.

Malfoy suddenly yanked his arm away and rolled down his sleeve. He backed away and Harry almost whined. He straightened his robes and looked around the room in distain.

"Just look at this mess you've made Potter."

Harry's head was spinning from these mood swing behaviors Malfoy kept exerting.

"Your blood is staining the floor Harry Potter. Why don't you clean it up."

What?

Harry looked at him confused and Malfoy just cackled. Then his face became serious, eyes cold as steel.

"I said clean it up."

Harry didn't know what to do or what Malfoy was talking about.

WTF?

Malfoy was now face to face with him, his pale pink lips and inch away from his own.

"I said clean it up Potter. Are you daft? Bend down, hands and knees on the floor and lick it all up."

Harry looked at him like he was insane. Because that was the most insane thing he'd ever heard Malfoy say. Lick it off the floor? That floor was disgusting. He stuck his nose out.

"No."

Malfoy leaned in so his lips were against his ear.

"Potter… If you don't clean it up right now, I will force your face into all that blood and make you choke on it."

Harry should his head then gave a yelp as Malfoy roughly grabbed the back of his hair and slammed his face down to the ground. He could feel his teeth grind across the stone and it rattled his brain. The position forced Harry's ass into the air and he could feel Malfoy's hardness pressed into the cleft of it.

God! Malfoy was so hard. This was so hot.

And then Harry didn't really know what came over him. Something told him to listen to Malfoy with every fiber of his being. He could feel Malfoy lean over his shoulder and whisper in his ear and that sick but oh so sexy commanding drawl.

"Now, Potter."

And with that command, Harry was licking his own blood off a dirty bathroom floor. And it was disgusting but so very hot with Malfoy pressing up against him, hand tangled in his hair, forcing him to do this dirty filthy act. He could feel Malfoy moaning every time Harry's ass rubbed up against him. Suddenly, Harry was flipped over and his trousers were ripped off. Literally ripped. Harry could hear his buttons hit the window pane on the other side of the room. Then he felt his leg being raised and Malfoy muttered a cold spell and he could feel an uncomfortable cold wetness inside him then he screamed murder as Malfoy roughly rammed his dick inside him. It was by far the most painful thing he had ever experienced, aside from crucio. Tears were streaming down his face as his ass was torn open and his bleeding arms scraped roughly on the stone floor, aggravating them even more and his head thumped on the ground making the room spin. But oh did it feel good. Malfoy's warm body on top of his. Malfoy's soft pale lips sputtering out random curses. Malfoy's pale eyes boring into his own. Malfoy's hard cock ripping him in half. Harry wanted to melt into that hot flesh until he lived in Malfoy. He couldn't stop staring up at him. Those eyes. Those fucking eyes. Usually so teasing and taunting but now they were aflame with passion and lust and they looked down at him as if he were the only thing in the world that mattered. As Harry looked in Malfoy's dialated eyes he knew from that moment on he was addicted to them. Those pools of quicksilver. Drowning and drowning you until you suffocate, but loving every second of it. They were so hot they would burn your face when they were focused on you, and yet so cold they made a shiver run down your spine and your toes freeze. In that moment, Harry Potter realized that he couldn't live another second without those eyes on him. Couldn't bear to have those eyes looking at someone else. Wanted this passion all day every day and only with Malfoy.

And Malfoy knew it. He knew he had Potter. He could see it in those killing curse colored eyes. Potter was hopelessly addicted to him. He almost laughed. Oh this was fun! He could feel Potter getting close to cumming and so he leaned down and whispered in his ear.

"You are mine Harry James Potter. You will belong to me from now on. No one is allowed to touch you. You are my property. Now cum for me Harry. My little masochist. My little slut."

And he muttered a spell that branded his name into Potter's chest and Potter screamed and came and looked so delicious while doing so that Draco shortly followed suit.

As they collapsed on the hard cold floor Draco could only think one thing. That Potter might be almost as addicting as himself.

The web has been spun,

The trap has been set.

Too bad little one,

Your caught in my net.

You can't run,

But don't you fret.

I might possibly eat you,

But not quite yet.

OMG! I was so turned on writing this whole chapter. My longest chapter yet. I just couldn't stop! Lol. Hope you enjoyed it. I surely did.


	7. Chapter 7

Warning: Depression, suicidal thoughts, self-harm of different varieties, sexual interactions, yaoi.

Disclaimer: I do not own any of the characters in this story.

Requiem For A Living

Chapter Seven

Harry Potter awoke to a facefull of crusted blood, a massive headache, scraped and bruised knees, and a sharp painful ache in his ass. He peeled his face off a cold stone floor and sat up dazed and confused. He grabbed his glasses from the floor and hastily put them on his face. Stone walls, white stone sinks, a broken mirror... Even with his glasses askew and one of the lenses missing he could tell he was in a bathroom. He willed his sore muscles to stand him up. He wobbled a little bit and and caught himself on a nearby stall. Why the fuck was he in the prefects bathroom... He stumbled over to the sink and nearly fell over in shock. His reflection in the half shattered mirror showed a very fucked up Harry potter with... No... NO! What the fuck! Draco Malfoy's name tattooed into his chest. Flashes of last nights activities suddenly raped his brain. Omg... Malfoy had fucked him last night. And made him lick blood off a bathroom floor. And branded his name into Harry's chest. And Harry loved every single second of it... Oh dear god... Then Harry Potter threw up into a sink and hobbled as quickly as possible back to his dorm.

Draco Malfoy was feeling quite smug indeed as he sipped his pumpkin juice and helped himself to some treacle tart. He had Potter right where he wanted him. Sore, slightly confused, and completely addicted to him. What shocked Draco was that he enjoyed the experience more than he thought be would. Sure Potter was hot, and god if it didn't feel good to fuck the light's golden boy till be screamed in ecstasy... But Draco couldn't forget the look in Potter's eyes when he branded his chest. It was a look of complete and utter submission. A look of complete trust. His eyes said "I am completely yours and I would give you my life if you asked for it." And that shook Draco to his core. It made feelings stir inside his chest that Draco didn't really understand. It was a mix of wanting to protect him, and to break him at the same time. He wanted to completely destroy every fiber of that boy's being, but afterward hold him close and tight and fucking punch anyone that even dared to look or even think of him.

And God those eyes. Those green as sin, killing-curse colored eyes. How is it possible that they were that fucking green. After he and Potter colapsed on the dirty bathroom floor, Potter's hair tickling his nose, Potter's blood staining his white shirt, Potter's everything invading everywhere, Draco didn't know what to do and just left him there.

Draco had entertained the thought of cursing Potter for cuddling up to him. Stupid Gryffindors... But looking at the permanant mark staining Potter's chest. Malfoy's name across the pale soft skin, tainting his very existance... It turned him on to know ends... He wanted to pick Potter up and chain him to his bed; never wanting anyone to look at him again. Made him... Possesive? Yes Draco Malfoy was a selfish bastard and never liked to share... But possesiveness was not a Malfoy trait. Ownership yes. Possesiveness no.

Draco huffed at the very thought. He wasn't going to let anyone make him feel this way. Let alone Harry Fucking Potter. That's right... All Draco wanted was to entertain himself with this prime piece of masochistic meat until he was tired and he'd let Potter cry in a corner somewhere.

Fuck Potter.

Break Potter.

Make him bleed.

Make him cry.

Pick up the pieces, coddle him, then break him again.

No.

No!

No picking up, no coddling.

Fuck!

Fucking Gryffindor...

Fucking Potter...

**This took a very very long time to update and i'm sorry. I really wasnt getting the reviews I was hoping for. Remember, reviews makes the story move on... But i figured, hey... This story is sexy. I want to see how it ends...**


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